


Cigars and Other Things

by Violette_Pleasures



Series: Mixed Drabbles [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Cigars, Crushes, Drinking, Drunk Tony Stark, M/M, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Pining, Pining Peter Parker, Sharing Clothes, Shotgunning, Sleepovers, sort of its unplanned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Pleasures/pseuds/Violette_Pleasures
Summary: Peter stays up way too late in the lab and decides to crash in Mr. Stark's guestroom, but insomnia is a bitch. On his way to get a drink, he runs into Mr. Stark who is just coming  back from the bar and more than a little tipsy. They sit together and chat about cigars and other things...





	Cigars and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from kinktober that was originally posted to my tumblr, so you may have already read this? nvn; but I'm still pretty happy with it and thought I would post it here since I haven't posted anything in ages

The clock on Peter's phone read 4:09 in bright, white numbers. It almost felt like it was mocking him at this point. He sighed, defeated, and finally rolled out of bed.

 

He never slept well at other people's houses. He was a creature of comfort and though it may not necessarily look it, Peter's bed was the most comfortable in the world. His room was kept in certain sort of order that he found cozy and nowhere else compared.

 

Even one of Tony Stark's fancy mattresses that no doubt cost thousands of dollars, didn't give him the same feeling.

 

He'd stayed up until his eyes were crossed rewiring Droney with hopes of improving his echo location and he's fairly certain he'd gotten it right, but he was so tired by the point he'd finished, he just wanted to collapse in bed. Briefly, he'd thought about going home, but when he glanced at the clock, he decided crashing here at Mr. Stark's might be a better option. Which is where he found himself now—in Mr. Stark's beautifully lavish penthouse with a terrible case of insomnia.

 

Quiet as he could, Peter crept down the hallway towards the kitchen, thinking a nice glass of warm milk or cup of hot tea might help a little bit. He was almost there when the front door opened, Friday greeting her master as she always did, and Peter was about ten seconds away from turning around and going back to bed when Tony looked up and their eyes met. Peter sort of froze like a deer in the headlights, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

 

“Peter?” Tony asked confusedly, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

 

“H-hey, Mr. Stark...” Peter smiled nervously and walked over to greet him properly.

 

“What're you doing here so late, Pete?” Tony peeled out of his leather jacket, the one Peter had a particular infatuation with, and hung it up on the coat rack. He smelled faintly of cigar smoke and liquor and the ever present scent of gear oil and metal and Peter was trying really hard not to lean in closer.

 

“Oh, uhm, earlier you said I could crash here if I needed to.”

 

“Right.” Tony nodded slowly. “Right, I remember that. How's Droney?”

 

“I think I might have figured out the kinks, but I could still use a fresh set of eyes.” Peter followed after Tony into the living room, watching as he mixed himself a nightcap and cut the tip off a cigar. He had to wonder just how many nightcaps Tony had already had, considering he was swaying just a little and had a soft smile playing at his lips the whole time.

 

“Let me get this in me and I can go check it out with you.” Tony kept his back to Peter as he mixed his cocktail, grabbing this that and the other to pour into a shaker.

 

“Oh, we don't have to right now. It's like four in the morning.”

 

“Wait. What time is it?”

 

“Four thirty-ish?”

 

“Huh. Alright, well I suppose young spiderlings need their spider sleep.” Tony chuckled and plopped down into one of the plush armchairs near the floor to ceiling windows, patting the arm for Peter to come take a seat.

 

Shyly, Peter shuffled over and sat on the arm of the chair. Instantly, Tony's hand found his back, rubbing back and forth over the low of it and Peter was pretty sure he could start a fire with his cheeks right about now.

 

“Hm, soft...” Tony purred, sounding sleepy. He was about to take a sip of his drink when he stopped himself and held it up to Peter's lips with a smile that could melt anyone's heart, but in the moment was turning Peter's into an ooey-gooey marshmallow mess. “Kiss the glass to make it sweet for me, darling?”

 

Peter thought he might faint if any more blood rushed to his face. His heart was up in his throat as he bent and bashfully kissed the rim of the glass. Tony turned it, drinking from the exact spot he kissed, humming in approval.

 

Striking a match, Tony puffed his cigar to life, thick smoke billowing out from between his lips. The scent of the cigar held a rich, spice note to it that Peter found sort of pleasant, very different from the stink of cigarette smoke.

 

“It's Honduran,” Tony spoke absently. “They only make a hundred boxes of these things a year.”

 

“I thought the best ones came from Cuba?” Peter cocked his head to the side; he honestly had no idea about cigars, just what he'd seen in old gangster movies.

 

Tony laughed, rough with smoke, and set the cigar down in an ashtray on the table beside the chair. He lifted a hand up and brought it down on Peter's thigh, giving him a squeeze. “Anywhere in Central America or the Caribbean is good, I find.”

 

Silence settled over the room as Tony's thumb rubbed gentle circles on the knob of Peter's knee making him want to fidget yet never leave at the same time. He'd never sat this close to Tony outside the workshop and with nothing mechanical between them, it felt like something else was forming between them. He knew Tony was fantastically drunk and would probably never touch him this way if he weren't, but Peter allowed himself this one selfishness, silently preening under his crush's touch.

 

“Well, uhm, I should probably be getting back to bed, er well, try to, I guess.” Peter slipped from the chair to his feet, standing there awkwardly for the beat of a few seconds. “Night, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Wait,” Peter was about halfway across the room when Tony called out for him. He stopped and turned towards the older man, twiddling with his fingers. “Are those my pajamas?”

 

“Uhm, yes?” Peter's shoulders crept up to his ears. “I-I didn't think you'd mind...”

 

“No, no I don't.” Tony rose from his chair, drink and cigar in hand and sauntered loose hipped over to Peter and god, it was sexy as hell. Peter swallowed as Tony backed him up against a wall, looming right in his personal space. “...don't mind at all. They look good on you, sweetheart.”

 

Peter blushed afresh at the endearment and Tony grinned.

 

“Hold out your hand.”

 

“What?”

 

“Hold out your hand, c'mon.” Tony gestured to Peter's right hand with his glass, waiting for Peter to dumbly follow his instructions. “There we go.” Carefully, he set the glass into Peter's upturned palm. “Now, don't drop it.”

 

“Why would I—?” Peter's cut off midsentence by Tony leaning even further into his space. He was trembling so badly at their proximity, that the ice in the glass was tinkling faintly against the sides.

 

Tony cupped Peter's cheek, thumb gliding over his bottom lip and encouraging him to open his mouth and dammit, Peter was getting hard in his borrowed pajama pants. “Good boy,” he breathed when Peter complied obediently. His eyes sparkled in the low light like two copper coins, mischievous and daring and utterly bewitching.

 

“Mr. Stark?”

 

Just when Peter thought his knees might give out, Tony took a long draw off his cigar. He parted his lips, smoke curling into languid tendrils around them, and craned down, stopping just short of their lips actually touching.

 

Peter watched the older man with wide eyes, a quiet gasp escaping him as Tony moved in, long lashes on full display with his eyes trained on Peter's lips. But rather than kiss him, Tony slowly blew the smoke from his cigar into Peter's mouth, eyes flicking up to look right into Peter's.

 

“M-mr. Stark...” Peter fluttered his lashes. This whole thing felt like a dream, a really strange, erotic, dream and he it made him wonder if he actually had managed to fall asleep earlier and none of this was real. He was so hard it hurt, undeniably so and the pajamas did little to cover it. He pressed his fingertips to his lips, hoping to feel some warmth, some proof of what had just happened lingering there.

 

Tony huffed a laugh under his breath and pressed his cheek to Peter's so he could murmur right next to his ear. “Good night, Peter.” He smirked at the shivers he caused and stepped back half a step to rake his eyes over Peter's body, pausing momentarily at his groin.

 

Taking his glass from Peter's hand, Tony walked back over to the chair to sit as if none of it had happened.

 


End file.
